


Christmas In January

by Hanatamago



Series: Hana's AsheDue Week 2020 [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Accidental Proposal, Ashedue Week 2020, Cooking, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23495251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanatamago/pseuds/Hanatamago
Summary: “I would not mind,” Dedue pauses, “If that does not break your family’s tradition, of course.”“Maybe it’s time we make some new ones.” Ashe snuggles into Dedue’s arms, basking in his warmth as he watches the snow fall.Day 1 of Ashedue Week: Traditions
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro
Series: Hana's AsheDue Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701187
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39





	Christmas In January

Tiny ice crystals have frozen onto the windows, and multicolored twinkling lights shine from the apartments on the other side of the street. It’s quiet outside, half because the snow dampens all the sound, and half because there’s just no one outside so close to dinnertime. It’s January 11th, and that means it’s Christmas. 

Well, of course, it’s Ubert Christmas. Their tiny flat is modestly decorated with a few strings of colorful lights. Only a few bulbs are burnt out, but it’s lucky that they’re the newer kind, wired in parallel, or the whole thing would be broken. A few presents wrapped in old papers and reused shiny bows sit under the plastic miniature tree. If you look closely, a few of the top branches are bent from being stuffed into a plastic bin so many times, but the small brass star over the top hides their most egregious abuse. 

This is how it’s always been. All the joy of Christmas, just a little less tidy around the edges. They have enough money to get by these days, but some things are just tradition. Like the tree, like the lights, and like the ramen they’ll have later tonight. Not the boxed stuff, though. They can afford better now, so Ashe won’t let those flavor packets within a mile of the kitchen again. It’s tradition, and the holiday pay helps too. So, two weeks after December twenty-fifth, they decorate the cramped (Cozy! It’s just cozy!) flat and sneak post-holiday sale gifts under the tree, and the three of them celebrate Ubert Christmas. 

Only, this year, it’ll be four of them. Dedue is on his way, because after three years, he’s basically family, and Ashe wants him to know all the things that make him, him.

And _Goddess_ , that’s a bad idea, isn’t it? Ashe is so nervous he nearly burns his hands boiling eggs - boiling eggs, of all things! He nicks himself while pre-dicing a few of the vegetables, and his pasta tears with every pass through the rollers. He’s stressing about this way, way more than he should be, but how can he not? Yeah, okay, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but now, the concept of showing Dedue this little piece of him is, well, _scary_. He won’t think it’s stupid, because he’s the kindest person in the world, but what if he does? A two-tone chime rings from the door before Ashe can ride his train of thoughts to its catastrophizing end. 

Heck, it’s Dedue. An unread text from five minutes ago confirms it, how did Ashe miss that? Dedue usually works Saturdays at the restaurant - they both do, but Dimitri gladly gave them the time off, and he wasn’t even close to subtle about the suggestion for Dedue to stop working so hard all the time. Of course, that’s hypocritical coming from Dimitri of all people, but Ashe agrees. The Areahdbar will survive without him every once in a blue moon. Although, tonight, with both of them gone, Dimitri probably has all hands on deck. Still, it’s worth it once a year, on a quieter weekend when Rowan and Hazel also have time off from their classes. 

He quickly washes the debris of his latest batch of homemade pasta off his hands. It’s still a little too sticky. A pinch more flour will easily fix that, but he’s not about to leave Dedue out in the cold for the sake of his dough. Well, he’s not about to leave Dedue out in the heated hallway; it’s the principle of the thing.

Ashe pauses in front of the door, hand jittery on the doorknob. It’s just an apartment. Dedue’s been here a hundred times before, but it would be silly to think that this is the same thing. Only a few centimeters of painted wood separate them now. Does he look okay? Ashe picks at the hem of his navy sweater, hoping he hadn’t gotten any flour or soy sauce on it. His fingers felt like lead. What if - no. He’s done worrying. He gave himself a whole hot shower to worry about it earlier today, it’s gotta be all out of his system now, right? Wrong, Goddess, wrong, but…

Okay. Breathe. You can do this, Ashe.

He twists the doorknob, carefully pulling the door open. Dedue stood on the other side, calmly tucked into his thick winter coat and the teal scarf Ashe made for him for Christmas last year. It’s embroidered with tiny, uneven flowers sewn into the edges with silver thread. It’s nothing compared to Dedue’s mother’s work, but after years of wear, her scarves are beginning to fray, so they stay in a special corner of Dedue’s dresser, third shelf from the top. 

“Ah, Dedue, come in!” He’s here, 6:02, just on time. He probably would’ve been right on the dot if Ashe hadn’t panicked in front of the door for a solid minute. 

“It is good to see you.” Dedue pulls off his coat and scarf, neatly hanging them beside Ashe’s on a tiny hook mounted on the back of the door. It’s almost ridiculous how much longer his coat reaches to the floor than Ashe’s own. But there’s something else about it, seeing their two coats hanging side by side, that just feels right… It fits. Dedue fits perfectly in his home, like it was designed for him to be there the whole time. 

Dedue turns back to him, brushing down the sides of his knit emerald sweater.

“I hope it wasn’t too bad of a walk, it said single digits, and it might snow later tonight.”

“Not too cold, though I am glad to be inside.” Dedue carefully thumbs across the side of his cheekbone, brushing away a stray bit of powder. “You have a bit of flour.” 

“Do I have any on my lips?” Ashe catches his hand, holding lacing his fingers in between Dedue’s. So maybe he’s a bit of a flirt, but only with Dedue. He doesn’t blush as easily these days, which is a real shame.

“It seems so.” Dedue smiles and leans in to grant him a kiss. Smooth lips brush against his own, chaste but warm.

When they first kissed so many years ago, it was like little embers sparking through all of his nerves at once. Every little whisper of his touch sent his heart racing, every simple _look_ made his cheeks burn an embarrassing shade of tomato-red! Ashe was so nervous then, because really, how could you not be? Someone like Dedue, so tall and blessedly attractive, and yet so sweet and kind - he’s perfect, and that’s just an inarguable fact. He’s gentle, but also the strongest man Ashe has ever met, physically and emotionally. He’s quiet, difficult to read sometimes, but only because his thoughts run so deeply. Every time Ashe uncovered something new about Dedue, he just fell a little harder for him.

All his life, Ashe had prided himself on watching out for his siblings and friends. Not that it was a choice, of course, but still. He tried to be there for them when they needed it, to provide for them when they had nothing. He tried to be a rock, a ‘mom friend’, a lighthouse guiding people to safe shores. All that time, he had thought that he could do that because he was okay - he was fine, just tired sometimes.

Dedue… Dedue was the first person to carefully untangle him and soothe the knots in his heart, to remind Ashe that he, too, needed a break. He also needed a rock, no, he _deserved_ one. Once he knew that, once Dedue was that person for him, kisses were like a wildfire burning across his skin. When they stole rare moments in Ahreadbar’s pantry just before closing up, his kisses were bright and desperate, wild with want before they had to part for the night.

Now, they can take it slow. It’s been three years, and Dedue isn’t going anywhere. Ashe’s job at the restaurant isn’t going anywhere. Now, kisses are warm and slow, like comfort food. Ashe takes his time, lazily curling his arms around Dedue’s neck to pull him close. He smells of clean linen and aftershave, like a well-kept home and everything nice and tidy about the world. Ashe could stay in Dedue’s arms forever, just like this.

Alas, the timer Ashe set on the microwave starts beeping, and Dedue isn’t getting anything less than a perfect 8-minute egg.

“Missed you.” Ashe pulls away with one last kiss on the cheek. One by one, he fishes four eggs out of a boiling pot and carefully moves them into an ice bath so they don’t cook any longer.

Dedue unlaces his heavy boots and neatly tucks them beside the three other sets sitting on the thick square of winter mat just inside the door. Hazel always manages to track shards of salt and little pebbles of gravel inside, but most of them come off on the mat. With a little scolding, Ashe has managed to cut the number of times he steps on a sharp rock in his own home down to about once a month. It’s progress.

“I have something for you.” It’s only then when he speaks up that Ashe notices Dedue carrying a small reusable bag at his side.

“Ah, I told you that you didn’t need to bring anything!” Ashe frowns, menacingly waving a spatula in a way Dedue would only ever describe as 'quite cute'. “I specifically banned you troubling yourself, didn’t I?”

“Nothing troubling.” Dedue chuckles, pulling a rolled bundle of navy fabric from the bag. One of his hoodies, the super soft one Ashe stole months ago but tore on a chain-link fence when they were closing the restaurant last week. Looking at it now, Dedue had patched it up without even a trace of the original tear. 

“Alright, you get a pass for this.” Ashe slips it on, huddling into the sleeves for a second. It smells like him, like warming spices and fresh cotton, like all the nice homey stuff, and he’s so big that it hangs around Ashe like a cloak rather than a jacket. 

“Am I allowed to help with dinner?” Dedue peers over his shoulder as Ashe begins to knead more flour into his pasta dough. “Or is that banned as well?” Ashe lets out an affronted gasp. Sure, he’s a guest, and guests aren’t supposed to do any of the work, but he’s also Dedue, so cooking isn’t really work. Ashe isn’t evil.

“Only since you asked so nicely.” He laughs. It’s not a chore for them, it’s something much sweeter. A hobby, maybe. More than that, it’s an expression of love - for each other, with each other. As cheesy as it sounds, it’s true. It’s intimate in a way that Ashe didn’t know cooking could be, and it’s not just the small space or the heat.

It’s the gentle, wordless touches they share when Dedue reaches past his shoulder to grab a fresh cutting board for the daikon and carrots, or when Ashe needs a towel hanging on the bar beside him. Ashe rambles on about how the others are doing. Annette has moved into her master’s degree in applied mathematics, and Mercedes is still going strong a few years into her residency. Ashe will never get how she stands all the blood, but she’ll make a great doctor.

With a tiny plop, the freshly cut noodles drop into the chicken stock. They cook pretty quickly, only a couple of minutes since they’re homemade. Dedue’s arms snake around Ashe’s waist as he nudges the noodles with a spoon so they separate. He watches silently, simply enjoying the stillness for a moment.

“Ramen is not a traditional Christmas food, is it?” Dedue knew relatively little on the subject, but he probably knew a thing or two from living with Dimitri. They must have celebrated, right? Ashe suspected Dimitri’s Christmas traditions were a world and a half away from his own, though. Distantly, he wonders if Dedue has ever made a gingerbread house.

“Not really, but it’s an Ubert tradition.” Ashe pushes a pile of sliced bok choy and ginger off his cutting board and into the water with the flat of his knife. “It was one of the only things we could find every year. Kind of strange, though, I know.”

“Peculiar, perhaps,” Dedue adds a few splashes of soy sauce and sesame oil to the mix, setting it to simmer.

“You like peculiar.” He must, or he’d have no business taking up with Ashe in the first place.

“I like peculiar.” He agrees and kisses the corner of his jaw, too perceptive to miss Ashe’s full-body shiver when his cheek scratches against Ashe’s skin. It’s unfair sometimes, how easily he can make Ashe’s heart flutter. All the time, really. But like he said, Dedue is perfect, so there’s nothing to be done.

* * *

Dinner is nice, if a little loud. Conversationally, it’s a blur of Rowan chirping excitedly about his complex math classes and Hazel complaining about her essays and retelling stories of her friends’ ventures with more than a pinch of melodramatic zest. Apparently bananas are a pretty hot commodity on campus, and if you live in the dorms, you’ve got to keep them in your own room or they’ll get stolen. 

It’s so, so far from Ashe’s life - or where he was only a few years ago in life. He never went to college, never had to pick a major after a year of ‘undeclared arts’, never had to study for a month’s worth of exams and midterms. It’s different, but he’s glad it’s different for them.

It’s nice to have a bit of free time to just talk, to catch up on life. Ashe enjoys hearing about their crazy new college friends and all their eccentric professors. The twins probably _don’t_ enjoy his mothering to make sure they keep eating healthy and focus on their classes rather than partying, but Ashe does it anyway.

He’ll see them again in the morning, and in brief glimpses of them through the week when they’re all heading out the door to their respective duties for the day. Hazel scurries off to her room with her new gritty medieval fantasy books and flashy colored pens, Rowan heads off to download a new game about jumping insects that Ashe picked up in a winter sale (it was on his wishlist). It’s wonderful to gather as a family over the holidays, but Ashe can’t say he isn’t relieved to have Dedue all to himself in their cozy little living room.

“So, how did you like the Christmas ramen? Worthy of being a tradition?” Ashe plops down on the couch, handing Dedue a warm mug that matches the one in his own hands. Eggnog! Err, _adult_ eggnog, to be specific. Neither of them have to drive tonight, so Ashe is going to make the most of it. A small fireplace crackles in the corner. Not for the first time, Ashe shoots a short prayer to the Goddess, thanking her that utilities are included in his flat rent.

“Delicious.” Dedue takes a sip of the eggnog, “The daikon salad was a nice compliment, though steamed dumplings might have added to the meal as well.”

“That’s true, I can’t ever seem to fold them as well as you, though.” Ashe sighs into Dedue’s shoulder, content to rest and simply love now that the buzz of nervousness has passed. It went well, Ashe reminds himself. Dedue didn’t judge, not that he would, and the twins didn’t think him an intrusion, not that they would.

“I would not mind bringing some or making them with you next time,” Dedue pauses, “If that does not break your family’s tradition, of course.”

“Maybe it’s time we make some new ones.” Ashe beams up at him. Gentle snow showers gently coat his thin, third-floor balcony with a layer of white down. It’s beautiful, but a touch too chilly out. Ashe snuggles into Dedue’s arms, basking in his warmth as he watches the snow fall.

“Perhaps so.” Dedue holds him close, but his eyes grow distant for a second. Ashe only notices because he knows Dedue like the back of his hand, like the freckles on his own cheeks, like his father’s favorite recipes. Ashe knows all of him by heart, and he knows that look means Dedue’s gotten in his own head about something.

“Hey, they like you.” Ashe curls into him, wrapping them both in a bulky, faded blanket. “You know they do. You’re like family.” And it’s true, they’re each other’s family, in all the ways that count.

“I am glad you think so.” He smiles, “Your family is… very dear to me.” He’d never give up the twins, but Dedue is the family that he chose, and that’s meaningful in a different way. He’s the man Ashe wants at his side for the rest of his days. He wants to wake up beside him in the mornings and see his boots standing next to his in the evenings. His coat hanging next to his, his scarves in the drawer, his spices in the cabinet and his plants on the windowsill...

“You could be part of it.” Oh, that wasn’t supposed to really come out! Ashe blushes and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “Ah - um, if you want to. Sorry, that was sudden. You don’t have to say anything now, just think about it.” 

Rough, warm palms slide over Ashe’s own. He can feel every line, every crease. Ashe thumbs over a deep scar in the heel of his left hand. Dedue leans down and captures his lips in a kiss. Bourbon and sweet cream mingle together in his mouth heavy over the bright snap of spices.

“I want to. I would like that, if you’ll have me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff :)
> 
> Winter holidays are so cute, don't you think?
> 
> I won't be posting for every day of AsheDue week, but my postponed pieces will probably make it out eventually. When I saw this prompt, though, I was so excited to do it for Ashe's traditions rather than Dedue's. I write enough about Duscur as is! ~~Read Warming Spices~~
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed, and happy AsheDue week <3
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter :)  
> [@hanatamagos](https://twitter.com/hanatamagos)


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